


Burning Bridges

by khrysallis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khrysallis/pseuds/khrysallis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae's life is thrown into a mess when he meets the person he used to care a great deal for at gunpoint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Bridges

The man with short-cropped hair tucked beneath a baseball cap glanced at the watches on display with feigned interest, eyes trained on the glass casing to catch the reflection of the shopping crowd thronging the mall behind him instead. He ignored the judging glances from the Rolex store staff – the lady was probably wondering whether he was going to get anything from the store, or whether he was planning on robbing it despite having a large crowd around him – and out of habit, he fingered the hilt of his trusty Colt, tucked away in the pocket of his jacket as he lay in wait.  
  
He raised an eyebrow when a crackling sound came in the direction of his earphone just then. “Chen,” a voice with a slight Chinese accent called out, “any sign of your target?”  
  
Chen fished his phone out of his jeans pocket and pretended to answer a call, all while keeping his volume at a bare minimum. “Nope. I would’ve been on that flight back to Korea by now if I did, Luhan. Seriously.” He breathed, rolling his eyes in frustration. He hated this part of the job the most; the waiting was almost endless, stretching over _days_ , even. “Is the information provided even accurate?”  
  
There was a grunt on the other side of the line, indicating that Luhan had no idea either. “There’s nothing we can do but to hope that we’re not running on a blind trail to nowhere. Keep your eyes peeled.”  
  
No further words were exchanged as they both lapsed into silence, and Chen looked around, pretending that he was waiting to meet with someone. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of a particular face in the crowd, his pupils dilating in excitement at the realisation that his target had _finally_  made an appearance. So the information was right, after all.  
  
Chen immediately jumped into action, lowering his head as he waded through the thick shopping crowd and headed directly towards the unsuspecting chubby man, his grip tightening around the hilt of his gun. Five feet away, Chen cocked his weapon, all while reminding himself that he had to keep the casualty count to one: only his target should be dead by the end of this. He had been reprimanded severely by his boss a couple of jobs ago for causing too huge a scene in the process of felling his target, with several extra people gunned down unnecessarily, incurring extra expenditure on the client’s side to keep several mouths shut. He’d rather not have a repeat of the incident.  
  
It wasn’t so much because Chen was  _sorry_  – compassion proved to be a deadly trait to possess, as far as assassins like him were concerned. Rather, long meetings bored him, and he’d like to distance himself from them if he had the choice.  
  
The adrenaline coursed through his blood as the distance between him and his prey narrowed, but Chen was shocked into renewed attention when a gunshot that wasn’t from him rang out in the mall, casting the crowd into great panic. Chen watched as his target slumped to the ground, a gaping wound left in the man’s forehead, blood gushing out and spreading beneath his limp form, and then he reeled around, eyes casting frantic glances in every direction to find the culprit.  
  
When he noticed a lone figure in a long, cashmere jacket walking away calmly, a large contrast from the people around him, Chen made a run for him, forcing a path through the frantic crowd who were making a mad dash for the nearest exit they could find. Chen refused to let his sights slip from the man, and followed him doggedly towards an isolated stairwell tucked away at the back of the mall.  
  
This was the first time his mission had been intercepted by another person, and he was  _dead sure_  it wasn’t the doing of his colleagues from M. No one ever made such a flashy entrance, not even Luhan on the rare occasion he was involved in fieldwork (Luhan could be quite the trigger-happy person sometimes), and Chen was hell bent on finding out what this man was up to – and, if he had to,  _eliminate_  him.  
  
The other hitman seemed to have noticed Chen’s presence as the latter pushed into the stairwell after him, and he broke into a dash up the stairs. Chen cursed colourfully under his breath, trying hard to keep up with the man, the sound of metal clashing against metal loud in his own ears as the body of his gun slammed against the railing whenever he clung to it for support as he swerved onto the next flight of stairs that followed.  
  
The chase did not drag out for long, and Chen soon found himself barrelling outside into the humid, suffocating Malaysian air, made much warmer by the neon lights of the Twin Towers. The man came to a stop right at the edge of the building, and was alternating his glances over his shoulder at Chen, then at the park below.  
  
Dead end.  
  
Chen held his gun in front of him as he inched towards the figure in black, smirking. “You have nowhere to run now,” he commented haughtily, coming to a stop at a safe distance away from the figure. The distance was more than adequate for him to accurately plant a bullet in any part of the man’s body as he pleased.  
  
“Really? I’d like to think otherwise,” came the calm reply from the man. He didn’t sound the least bit fazed by his current predicament, and had the audacity to keep his back turned against Chen.  
  
“Unless you intend to jump off the building and end your own life. I don’t really object to that, but I’d prefer it if I could be the one to put a bullet right between your eyes.” Chen quipped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the figure. “Just one question before you die – who sent you?”  
  
“My, aren’t you the confident one? How sure can you be that I’ll be the one who ends up dead?” There was a teasing lilt to the man’s words which rubbed Chen the wrong way, and his grip tightened ever so slightly on his weapon, finger hovering over the trigger. It was a matter of seconds before the man would be falling over the edge of the building, along with a bullet hole through his skull, courtesy of Chen. He merely needed the answer to his question.  
  
“Spit it out.” Chen reiterated, his patience slipping by the second. “ _Who sent you?_ ”  
  
The man was as relentless as Chen. “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”  
  
A split second was all that was needed for the scale to tip over, to turn the odds in either of their favour. Chen barely managed to pull the trigger at the same time that the man leapt over the edge, the bullet only lightly grazing past the man’s face instead of through a flat piece of bone as Chen had originally intended it to be. But it didn’t matter; the man was sure to die from the fall at such a height, and Chen found no urgency in walking towards the ledge, fully expecting to see the crowd congregating in a circle around the man’s dead body by now.  
  
But his eyes widened at the sight. Another round of expletives left his lips when there was no sign of the man sprawled in a bloody mess on the ground below, only a frightened crowd huddled close after that shooting incident earlier, waiting for the police to sort out the situation. The man seemed to have disappeared in mid-air.  
  
Chen threw a frustrated punch at the sandstone ledge separating him from a seven-storey fall, knowing full well that he had to face the music for his blunder again, now that he did not have a body as proof that he had indeed completed his mission, or back up his claims that another hitman had intercepted his kill.  
  
What the fuck.  
  


-

  
  
“Any damages will be deducted from your pay, Chen. I’d watch it if I were you.” Luhan chirped a little too cheerfully from his seat in front of the many computer screens filling the room, watching in amusement as Chen barged in, slammed the door much harder than was necessary behind him, and stormed all the way across the room before throwing himself into his favourite armchair.  
  
“ _Fuck you_  and your stupid fucking damages!” Chen snarled, his hands coming up to rub circles on his temples. “I won’t even get my pay this time so pull the money out of your own ass for all I care!”  
  
A tall, blond man walked into the wide space just then, thick eyebrows quirked questioningly at Chen for his outburst, then at Luhan, whom shrugged in response. “You have some serious anger management issues, Chen.” He deadpanned, scowling when he received the finger from Chen.  
  
“Try telling that to me when your target gets wiped out by someone else at the last fucking moment, Kris,  _then_  we’ll talk.”  
  
The playful atmosphere was wiped out in an instant. Luhan left his chair at the control centre for the first time in a long while, muscles tensed as he made his way to sit in front of Chen. Kris followed suit. This was entirely unheard of before.  
  
“What did you just say about your target?” Luhan asked seriously, the last of his mischievousness gone without a trace. “ _Chen._ ” He called out again, sensing that Chen wasn’t planning to oblige with an answer, and Chen made a face at him.  
  
“He was intercepted by someone.” Chen breathed, scrubbing his face in exhaustion. He wasn’t used to Luhan’s serious expressions; it made him jittery, an effect greater than Luhan’s scheming face could ever achieve. “I don’t know who that person was, or who sent him, but I didn’t get to kill him either. He disappeared off the side of the Twin Towers.”  
  
Luhan and Kris appeared bothered by the information, but before they could delve deeper into the details, one of the computer screens flickered to life and began streaming a live video conversation with their employer. “Good evening, gentlemen. Chen.” The middle-aged man greeted sternly, nodding specifically at Chen.  
  
Chen gulped. Obviously his boss had heard of his failure.  
  
“Good evening, Mr. Kim.” Kris returned the greeting, seamlessly stepping into his position as team leader. “Is there a new mission for us?”  
  
Kim Youngmin only came into contact with M whenever he had a job for them, accepted from clients whom the members of M had no idea about. They were trained to kill specific targets in the shortest span of time possible with the least amount of complications involved, not to question about motives or reasons behind each kill. Every complication meant a reduction in pay, and the members of M usually did a clean job. They weren’t known as the elites in the assassination business for nothing.  
  
But today, Kim Youngmin came with a different intention. “No, Kris. I have another pressing matter to discuss with you.” He said grimly. By then, the remaining three members of M shuffled into the room, having heard the signal from Luhan. When they have settled down around the table where mission briefings were usually held, Kim Youngmin began filling them up with the purpose of him establishing contact.  
  
“I received news that may jeopardise your –  _our_  – position as the top assassination group. It seems that you have a new rival under the name K.” If the other members of M were bothered by the information, none of them showed it on their expressions. They were all trained to keep up with a calm appearance at all times, hiding what they truly felt within.  
  
“I’ve met one of them, I think.” Chen spoke up thoughtlessly then, only to find several pairs of curious eyes trained on him, realising that he was expected to continue talking. Kris’s and Luhan’s attentions remained focused on the screen. “One man intercepted my kill in Malaysia yesterday night. I reckon he’s one of them.”  
  
Kim Youngmin turned his interested gaze upon Chen. “Is that so?” He mused.  
  
“Yes, sir.” Chen answered tentatively, suddenly hyperaware of the smallest of changes in his boss’s expressions.  
  
Chen thought he didn’t seem too perturbed by the emergence of K. Then again, his boss wasn’t directly involved in the dirtier side of the dark trade they dabbled in. Apart from the payout from completed jobs, none of this probably mattered to him.  
  
And then Chen remembered how frightfully easy it would be for Kim Youngmin to cut  _any_  of them loose if he wanted to; if they became too much of a liability. He wasn’t entirely to blame for the latest slip-up, but his past records did not bode well for his career, or for his neck to stay intact long enough to last him a couple more years.  
  
 _Shit._  He was going to personally kill that fucker once he finds him.  
  
“Well then!” Kim Youngmin clapped then, jolting Chen out of his inner thoughts. “I’m sure you gentlemen will be more than capable to stave off their challenge, are you not?”  
  
The silent threat that  _if you slip up, you’re dead_  hung in the air, the pressure heavy and suffocating, barring further discussion. None of them were reckless enough to answer their boss. It was one of those moments where it would be wiser for them to shut the fuck up.  
  
Satisfied with their silence, Kim Youngmin had the ghost of a smirk as he turned towards Chen. “And  _Chen_ , you’re excused from participating in the next few jobs.” Alternatively,  _you’re out of handling missions until you can pull your shit together._  
  
Chen’s jaw fell open in indignation. “What–” He gritted his teeth and swallowed his words when Xiumin nudged him in the ribs to shut him up, a not-so-gentle reminder that Kim Youngmin’s orders were absolute. He concurred with a begrudged “yes, boss, I understand”, and the screen faded into black again.  
  
It took Chen all but five seconds to slam his open palms against the tabletop, rattling the glass of water perched on top of it. “ _What the fuck_  was that supposed to mean? He can’t just pull me out of jobs as he pleases!” He seethed, earning no sympathetic looks from any of his group members. As tightly-knit as they were supposed to be on the job to ensure a flawless execution of their missions, the relationship they had was strictly professional. Personal lives and emotions were left outside the walls of this very room – none of it mattered to the rest of them at the end of the day.  
  
“On the contrary, yes he can.” Lay quipped, fingers fiddling with the cords of his headphones. “He’s the boss. He calls the shots.”  
  
“No one asked for your opinion!” Chen snapped at the older man and stormed out of the room again. As high-strung as he was now, Chen wouldn’t be surprised if he would snap and pull the trigger at one of his team members, just to shut them up.  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Chen breathed in heavily and shed his identity as an assassin as he walked out the door, and stepped back into the skin he was born with, as Kim Jongdae. He wasn’t needed here, anyway.

-

  
  
Jongdae’s lips clamped around the unlit cigarette in his mouth, eyes narrowed in concentration as he emptied the magazine of his gun into the target board in successive shots. He smirked when the bullets found their target, and relished the tingling sensation in his hand, an after-effect of the recoil from the earlier shots. There was a time when the sensation bothered him greatly, but it was all in the past. Now he embraced it like an old friend, no longer unwelcomed.  
  
This was a reminiscent of his earlier days, even before he had joined M, when Jongdae frequented the shooting range to vent his frustrations and anger, after learning about the existence of such a thrilling hobby from his classmates in university. It was at a shooting range in Beijing that Jongdae had been recruited into the top notch assassination group, his point precision earning the attention of Kris.  
  
He wasn’t even bothered to take a look at his target board before he pulled his earmuffs and protective goggles down (such nuisances, these gears, but rules were rules), walking away with a whistle while twirling the rented gun around. Jongdae knew the other patrons were staring at him, jaws probably on the floor at his accuracy, but he was already used to this. Besides, he was losing his hold on his irritation at being pulled out of assassination missions until his boss deemed him ready to get back into the game, so no, he was in no mood to entertain flattery from others.  
  
His hand with the gun flew up in an automated response, muzzle pressed snugly against flesh, when someone had bumped into him on his way out. If anything, Jongdae was glad that the magazine of his gun had been emptied on the target board. If his trigger finger had acted on its own, the man in front of him would have dropped dead on the floor by now. Jongdae didn’t usually run on such a short fuse for his temper, but the recent turn of events had turned him into a walking time bomb, capable of exploding at any given moment.  
  
But instead of hearing the expected whimper of fear, or the incensed curses of having a gun pointed at his head from the man, Jongdae was the one who blinked in surprise when his name was called out in a strangely familiar yet unfamiliar voice.  
  
It took Jongdae several more minutes to digest what was going on. He scrutinised the man who was standing in front of him, who seemed oddly unperturbed still at having a gun pressed into his forehead, trying to remember where he had seen him before.  
  
Then Jongdae’s eyes widened in recognition. “Junmyeon?”  
  
The man smiled.  
  
  


-

  
  
Jongdae had some trouble determining whether he was imagining things at this very moment.  
  
Ever since he had left his life in Seoul behind him and uprooted to Beijing, Jongdae thought he would lose every friendship, every acquaintance he had ever made in this bustling city for the rest of his life. It was only appropriate, considering his line of job. Emotions and relationships were deemed as unnecessary baggage, serving to kill him off rather than enriching his life.  
  
He certainly hadn’t banked on meeting someone whom Jongdae had considered as one of the most important persons in his life, so soon after returning to Seoul. Seated across the table from him, Kim Junmyeon seemed like an illusion to Jongdae; he was within reach, but Jongdae was afraid the illusion would shatter the moment he reached across to touch him.  
  
Junmyeon almost literally hadn’t changed much since Jongdae had last seen him in high school. He still had the same angelic smile, porcelain white skin, and brown eyes which shone as bright as ever. There was also the serene aura that seemed to emanate from him.  
  
 _Real or unreal, real or unreal,_  Jongdae’s mind seemed to repeat incessantly, still unable to wrap around the fact that he was seated here with Junmyeon, and it was really beginning to grate on his own nerves. Jongdae cleared his throat when he caught himself staring a little too blatantly, cheeks a little warm from embarrassment.  
  
Great, less than a week into being Kim Jongdae again, and he was already humiliating himself. The members in M were sure to mock him if they ever found out.  
  
Junmyeon, though, didn’t seem to be ruffled. “It’s been such a long while, Jongdae. How have you been?”  
  
“Good. I’ve been going about doing stuff.” Jongdae said, hoping Junmyeon wouldn’t dig deeper for the details. He really couldn’t see himself explaining how he’d dropped out of university to go around killing people to pacify the power tussle of various companies around the world, or the painful past that came along with it to Junmyeon. Jongdae winced inwardly. “You’ve been well, I hope?”  
  
There was a slight nod and a smile which knocked the air out of Jongdae’s lungs. “Yeah. I’m doing some volunteer work now, and there’s plenty of travelling involved so I’m not complaining.”  
  
Of course. Junmyeon had always possessed a big heart with a tremendous passion for charitable work; it was only normal for him to head down that path. Jongdae felt himself becoming a little envious of Junmyeon’s life, normal and free of the burden of having to lie about it. He yearned for that, but Jongdae knew it was impossible to return to such a life with hands as bloodstained as his. Death was probably the only ending waiting for Jongdae at the end of the line.  
  
That was when Jongdae noticed a graze across Junmyeon’s cheek, the break of skin marring its perfection. He didn’t realise that his body had reacted on its own, making him reach across the table to brush the side of his finger ever so gently against the wound on Junmyeon’s face, until Junmyeon flinched away from his touch. There was a wry smile on Junmyeon’s lips when Jongdae pulled back, and Jongdae cleared his throat in embarrassment.  
  
“Sorry, I– I didn’t mean to do that and I just–” Jongdae stuttered over his words, before sighing and settling for a calm, “What happened?”  
  
“A little mishap at the place I volunteer at. Kids can get extremely nasty sometimes.” Junmyeon said sheepishly and waved Jongdae off. “It’s nothing to be worried about.”  
  
Just as Jongdae was about to say something, the shrill ringing of his phone cut his thoughts off, and he apologised to Junmyeon before pulling the device out of his pocket. Jongdae frowned at the caller ID – what the hell was Luhan calling him for when he was supposed to stay out of missions? – then cancelled the call. Luhan would understand.  
  
“Don’t you need to pick that up?” Junmyeon raised an eyebrow at him. Jongdae blinked.  
  
“Uh, not really? It can wait.”  
  
Another phone rang just then, and both their attentions were snapped towards the object on the table. It was Junmyeon’s turn to smile apologetically at Jongdae this time. “Sorry, but I have to go. Work calls.” He waved his phone at Jongdae, showing him a text message from someone called Baekhyun.  
  
“O–oh.” Jongdae blurted, trying not to let the disappointment show. He had wanted to talk to Junmyeon a little longer, to catch up on the time lost between them, but real life kicked in when he least wanted it to. “It’s alright then. I should call my friend. He’ll be pissed if I don’t.”  
  
“Hey, listen,” Junmyeon said when Jongdae asked for the bill, reaching over to hold Jongdae’s hand. Jongdae’s eyes flickered downwards, his skin tingling from the touch, then back at Junmyeon, confused. “I’d really like it if we could catch up again sometime. What do you say?”  
  
For the first time in a very,  _very_  long while, Jongdae found himself smiling sincerely. “Sure. I’d love that.”  
  
  


-

  
  
“I don’t get why you’re here.” Chen frowned at the comment, hearing the telltale  _click, click, click_  of Tao assembling his Savage 110 BA on the other side of the line before a longsuffering sigh entailed. “Weren’t you supposed to be kept off missions indefinitely?”  
  
He shrugged, knowing that Tao was watching him through the riflescope on the building across his. “The Boss calls the shots.” Chen reminded him, quoting Lay from a week ago. “I was actually enjoying my time away from you. Why are we even on this mission together?”  
  
Chen smiled smugly when Tao cussed at him. They weren’t particularly on good terms with each other. Tao, albeit younger than Chen, was inducted into M much earlier than Chen did on the basis of his skills at close-ranged combat and putting bullets through skulls with his sniper rifle. The moment Chen had walked into their base with Kris’s arm around his shoulder though, Tao decidedly felt threatened – for whatever reason, Chen hadn’t yet discovered – and made it a point to antagonise him every chance he had.  
  
“Be nice.” Luhan chided when Tao swore into his microphone again. “It’s Mr. Kim’s orders. I wouldn’t have put you two together if I had the choice, but the rest are out on missions elsewhere as you know.”  
  
“Aren’t you around, though?” Chen asked, even though the answer was obvious. He tried not to let a snicker escape when Luhan heaved a dramatic sigh.  
  
“You know the boss would rather keep me on the computers than let me do field work.”  
  
Tao snorted. “That’s because you nearly wiped out an entire  _town_  of its populace when you were last sent out on a job. Who the fuck uses grenades to get the job done, anyway?”  
  
They both knew they were on the winning end of the discussion when Luhan snapped at them after a split second’s silence. “Shut up and pay attention to your mission before I cut off all communications and devices, and let you both wander around like idiots. I don’t really care if you guys get killed. It’s easier to get replacements than you think.”  
  
Chen rolled his eyes at Luhan’s feeble threat – they were all good enough to stand on their own when the need arises – but said nothing else except a sarcastic  _‘yes, fine’_  to placate the older man. He stiffened when Tao suddenly hissed something along the lines of  _target sighted_  into the receiver, and immediately pulled his night vision goggles down, attention completely devoted to tracking down the man on their hit list. There was a lone figure in a suit making his way down the dockyard with his head bowed low – a sure sign of nervousness. No bodyguards, Chen made a mental note, knowing Tao was doing the same.  
  
That was when Chen caught sight of a familiar figure in a cashmere jacket tailing their target closely from a safe distance, and he cursed again. “Fuck, K’s men are here.”  
  
Tao didn’t seem too perturbed by the fact. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take down those fuckers and spare myself of the future headache. Don’t get in my way or I’ll gun you down too.”  
  
Chen couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbled out of his throat. There was definitely no love lost between them, he thought dryly as he jumped out of his hiding place and blended into the darkness, making sure to make as little noise as possible as he dashed through the streets. His gun was in his hand in no time, grip firm as he kept his sights pinned on their target. Now that he knew that same person from K was around, the excitement escalated further. It was a battle of who would claim the kill first, and Chen wasn’t about to lose this round.  
  
“Tao, you get the target. I have a personal score to settle with this bastard from our previous meeting.”  
  
“Don’t order me around unless you’re Luhan or Kris.” Tao sniffed indignantly, but Chen knew Tao was going to go along with his plan. They both wanted to get the job done, and compromising was the only way.  
  
Chen smirked. The hitman from their rival group hadn’t noticed him approaching at all, still focused on tailing their common target. Chen thought that he wasn’t such a careful person after all. When he got close enough, Chen pounced at the man, sending them barrelling across the street just as Tao’s bullet grazed past the top of Chen’s head and sank itself in their target’s chest. That asshole always played dangerously whenever they had to work together, and Chen sometimes wondered whether Tao wanted to get away with  _accidentally_  killing him off during missions. Chen wouldn’t be surprised if he did.  
  
 _You’re on your own now,_  Tao said, followed by a curt  _don’t get yourself killed by someone that isn’t me_ , and Chen chuckled again as he pinned the other hitman on the ground, gifting him a heavy-handed uppercut for good measure which earned a groan from the man. Chen scowled a little when he realised that the man was wearing a mask, but didn’t let it get to him. He could always uncover the man’s identity later on – when the man was lifeless on the ground.  
  
“So, we meet again. You seem to have a penchant for cashmere jackets, don’t you?” Chen mocked, pressing the muzzle of his Colt against the man’s forehead and cocking it. “Now tell me, are you from K?”  
  
The man coughed, probably to get rid of the blood pooling in his mouth from the impact earlier. His words came out in a slight gurgle. “Ah, you’ve heard of us.”  
  
“We have a pretty good information system.” Chen concurred, eyes narrowing when the man kept his sights trained towards the side. He fisted the man’s shirt, and slammed him, hard, against the tarred road to get his attention. It was a good thing they were at the dockyard; no one would walk in on them and spoil his fun. “Don’t you feel that it’s rude to not look at someone when they’re talking to you?”  
  
The man laughed and turned his head to indulge in Chen’s demands, but Chen felt him stiffen ever so slightly beneath him when he did. “You’re–”  
  
“I’m _what_?” was what Chen wanted to say, but before the words even left his mouth, he was kneed painfully in the crotch, and it sent him tumbling towards the ground in agony. Expletives escaped his lips like a fervent mantra, the white hot pain blinding him momentarily. Chen vaguely heard the man getting up to his feet through the ringing in his ears, and when he was able to open his eyes after a large bulk of the pain was gone, Chen found himself lying there alone on the streets, his enemy nowhere to be seen.  
  
Tao’s cackles carried over the earpiece when Chen started on a brand new round of curses.  
  
  


-

  
  
“You let him go. Again.”  
  
Chen flinched at the voice the moment he stepped into M’s base, and found his boss staring down at him from the widescreen monitor ahead. Part of him wondered how the hell Kim Youngmin had managed to get hold of the news so quickly, but another part of him wasn’t all that surprised. As a member of the crime underworld, Kim Youngmin was bound to have his own external sources – even if it meant that he didn’t place as much trust in M as Chen thought he did.  
  
“Sorry.” Chen mumbled around his wounded pride.  
  
“ _You should be._  I placed my trust in you, for you to redeem yourself through this job.”  _But you failed,_  Chen knew Kim Youngmin wanted to say. The man was a master at holding his words back, but he always manages to get the point across anyway.  
  
“We took down the target, though.” Tao drawled lazily from the other side of the room, much to Chen’s surprise. He was banking on the younger man to keep mum and watch the subsequent drama unfold with glee, but apparently not. “Maybe we should go easy on Chen.”  
  
Kim Youngmin appeared to contemplate Tao’s words for a moment, before he smiled at Chen. It was one that made him look like a predator, rather than a considerate employer. “I will overlook the incident this time. But I might not be as kind if there is a repeat of this.”  
  
Chen bowed in acknowledgement, only straightening himself when he was no longer basking in the warm glow from the screen. He slumped into the nearest chair, decidedly feeling exhausted from that short exchange.  
  
“Amateur.” Tao snickered then, and Chen shot him a glare, of which Tao duly ignored. “I can’t believe you actually got  _kneed_ –”  
  
“Tao, this isn’t the time for taunts.” Luhan interrupted from his seat at the control panel, where he was still monitoring the progress of Xiumin’s mission. Tao made a face even though Luhan wasn’t looking, and stalked off without another word. Chen watched him leave, before heaving a relieved sigh.  
  
“Thanks, Luhan hyung. He’ll never let me hear the end of it if you hadn’t interrupted.”  
  
“I wasn’t intending to help you out.”Luhan said, a little too earnestly that it made Chen wince. None of them should get too close to each other. Right. “I’m just curious, though.”  
  
Chen raised an eyebrow. “Curious about?”  
  
“Why you’re alive.” Chen winced again at Luhan’s brutal honesty. The older man was too blunt for his own good sometimes. “I mean, I’m sure he had a gun on him. Why did he choose to run away instead of killing you right then and there?”  
  
At this, Chen sat up. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He was sure that if he were in the other hitman’s shoes, he would have pulled the trigger and put an end to his assailant without even a second’s hesitation. So why  _didn’t_ he?  
  
“Maybe he was instructed to keep the death toll to a bare minimum.” Chen reasoned. Luhan turned around in his swivel chair with his cheeks puffed up; he didn’t seem quite convinced. If Chen had to be honest with himself, though, he wasn’t convinced by his own argument either.  
  
“Or stupid. I’d kill an opponent without second thought, and so would you.” Luhan countered, expressions thoughtful now. Jongdae couldn’t help but agree with him. “Also, I’m curious as to why Mr. Kim decided to send both you  _and_  Tao for the mission. I did a background check on the target–”  
  
“Luhan, you know you’re not supposed to–”  
  
“I know; violation of the secrecy clause. Details.” He waved Chen off nonchalantly. “Anyway, your target wasn’t even a dangerous person by any means. Corporate figure, running off after siphoning the company’s money, no combative background whatsoever. Go figure.”  
  
Chen’s eyes narrowed at the information. It really was overkill for their boss to send him and Tao after their newest target, especially when the man didn’t even have bodyguards to escort him. Even if Kim Youngmin had expected K to intercept the kill, and as much as Chen disliked admitting, Tao alone would’ve sufficed to complete the job.  
  
In the end, Chen merely shrugged and slid off the chair, eager to rest up after his mission. He paused at the door on his way out, throwing one last glance at Luhan who was still watching him intently. “We can only guess what he’s up to, but be careful when you’re digging around, hyung.”  
  
Luhan grinned.  
  
  


-

  
  
It was another two weeks before Jongdae could meet up with Junmyeon again. By now, Jongdae was so used to having more time for himself – he wasn’t sure whether missions were coming by scarcely, or whether his boss still intended to keep him out of action; they didn’t establish contact with their base unless Luhan rang them up for another job – that he was actually enjoying it.  
  
And enjoy it he did, with Junmyeon’s lips which tasted of expensive alcohol on his as they stumbled into Junmyeon’s apartment in Itaewon. Amidst the loud music and free flow of cocktails coming their way in the bar, they somehow came to a silent agreement to pick up where their relationship had left off all those years ago, and took it upon themselves to be reacquainted with each other’s lips and the way their bodies moulded together in a slow grind on the dance floor.  
  
Jongdae couldn’t remember how they had ended up back at Junmyeon’s apartment, but he was sure that Junmyeon was far more sober than he was. The older man was surprisingly good at holding his drinks, what with the innocent and clean image he projected.  
  
Images, as Jongdae now learned, could be fairly deceiving.  
  
A tipsy giggle escaped Jongdae’s lips when Junmyeon pulled Jongdae flush against him by the belt loops, mouth hot against the pulse point of his neck. He could feel Junmyeon’s erection straining against his through the layers of denim between them, and Jongdae’s hands head south to tug at the zip, freeing Junmyeon easily.  
  
Jongdae’s pants and boxers come off just as soon, and before he even knew what was going on, Jongdae found himself being pushed up against the wall, legs wrapped around Junmyeon’s waist as Junmyeon pounded into him, hard and fast. Jongdae keened and moaned filthily at every contact made between the tip of Junmyeon’s cock and his prostate, pain and pleasure melding together, and they both came messily moments later, Junmyeon thrusting erratically into Jongdae as he rode out his orgasm.  
  
Jongdae drifted off to sleep in his sated state, blissful smile on his face as he cuddled deeper into Junmyeon’s embrace, thinking that it was nice to be able to sink into a normal life, if only for a short moment.  
  
  


-

  
  
Jongdae was alone in bed when he woke up the next morning, grimacing when he shifted in his position from the soreness between his legs. He nestled deeper into the covers, smiling wistfully as he took in Junmyeon’s scent on the sheets.  
  
But then his eyes flew wide open in horror when he caught sight of a fully-dressed Junmyeon seated in the armchair across the bed, a familiar looking weapon hooked around his index finger. There was an accusatory look in Junmyeon’s eyes that made Jongdae flinch inwardly.  
  
How could he have forgotten about his gun?  
  
“Good morning?” Jongdae tried lamely, hoping that it could ease some of the tension in the room. The stillness was in the morning air, so thick that it could easily be cut through with a knife, and Jongdae gulped, feeling timid for the first time in years.  
  
“Good morning, Jongdae.” Junmyeon returned the greeting stiffly, the expression in his eyes intent as he continued to watch Jongdae. “Do you mind telling me what this is about?” A click reverberated through the silence of the room when Junmyeon twirled the gun around his finger and grabbed it expertly by the handle, aiming the muzzle in Jongdae’s direction.  
  
Jongdae swallowed again. “It’s necessary for my job.” He said, figuring Junmyeon wouldn’t settle for anything less than the truth. Junmyeon’s eyes narrowed.  
  
“And what exactly is this job of yours? I deduce it’s not something legal?”  
  
 _Bull’s-eye._  
  
Jongdae had forgotten how impossibly perceptive Kim Junmyeon could be. He sighed and sat up on the bed, pulling the covers over his lower body to keep himself somewhat decent for the conversation that was coming. He swallowed again, knowing that once the truth was out, there was a large chance he would lose Junmyeon again, so soon after they had rekindled their relationship. He took his time committing the other man’s features into mind.  
  
“I kill people for a living. I’m a hired hand.”  
  
There was another click; Junmyeon had cocked the gun. “How did you end up doing such things? Last I remembered, you were studying Economics in Beijing.”  
  
Jongdae inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly at the question, feeling the unwanted memories flood his consciousness. He knew this would return to haunt him someday, but the knowledge didn’t make things any easier for him to bear. “My parents were _murdered_  while I was away at university, Junmyeon. The Chinese police swept the incident under the rug without even bothering to launch an investigation. This was the only way I could think of to find out why they were killed and who did it.”  
  
His parents meant a lot to him – Junmyeon knew that – and finding them laying motionlessly on the ground in their own pool of blood, bullet holes through their foreheads when he got home from classes years ago left a permanent imprint in his mind, doomed to never be erased. He vowed to find his parents’ killer, and put an end to the person with his own hands.  
  
Jongdae’s voice was soft even to his own ears, and Jongdae only realised that he was crying when Junmyeon cupped his face, the tears spreading into a thin film of moisture between his cheeks and Junmyeon’s palm. Much to Jongdae’s surprise, Junmyeon pulled him in for a tender kiss, one that made his heart swell in happiness. His Colt lay forgotten on the bed behind Junmyeon.  
  
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jongdae. I’m so sorry.” Junmyeon whispered as he pressed their foreheads together, and Jongdae’s arms came up to wrap themselves around Junmyeon’s waist. This was the first form of comfort  _anyone_  had offered to him in years, and Jongdae loathed letting go.  
  
He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind at that particular moment.  
  
“Don’t leave.”  
  
Junmyeon combed his fingers through Jongdae’s hair, and pressed butterfly kisses down the angle of his jaw before he lowered Jongdae onto the bed and hovered over him again, pushing himself into Jongdae with a silent promise.  
  
 _I won’t._  
  


 

~ * ~

 

 

There wasn’t a time when Jongdae hated the sound of his phone ringing any more than he did right now. He gave the device on the bedside table an evil eye; he was trying hard to relish the way Junmyeon was fastening his lips on his skin, but the incessant ringing was a massive distraction, mostly because he  _knew_  it was an important call from Luhan. There was only one other person who ever called him (ever had his number), anyway, and that person was currently in bed with him.  
  
Jongdae wanted to reach for his phone and shut it off, but the way Junmyeon had him pinned on the bed as Junmyeon slowly licked a wet trail down his torso made it an impossible task to accomplish. The moment Jongdae let out a whimper when Junmyeon’s tongue skirted around the waistband of his jeans, Junmyeon’s phone began ringing too, and Junmyeon heaved a sigh and leaned back, much to Jongdae’s disappointment.  
  
“I guess we should pick up these calls. They’re not going to let up if we don’t.” Junmyeon suggested, a slight frown on his face. Jongdae had half the mind to pull Junmyeon back down and pick up where they had left off because  _to hell with these phone calls_ , but he knew that after such a long period of silence, any sudden calls from Luhan meant that something was up and he was needed.  
  
Jongdae resisted from shuddering at the thought of an angry Luhan barging through the doors of his apartment with a gun in hand. Luhan was fully capable of that.  
  
Sighing, Jongdae picked up his phone and padded out of the room. Even if Junmyeon knew about his line of work, there were still things he’d like to keep out of Junmyeon’s knowledge – mission details, for example. Jongdae mustered the angriest tone he could manage. “ _What_ , Luhan? You’re interrupting my private time here.”  
  
“You mean your sexual escapades with a certain Kim Junmyeon? I know.”  
  
Luhan’s answer was so brutally honest that Jongdae choked on his own breath, because he was dead sure no one knew about his relationship with Junmyeon. Apparently, he thought wrong.  
  
“How did you even–”  
  
“Computer genius, remember?” Luhan reminded him a little too cheerfully. Jongdae couldn’t help but wonder just how much more Luhan knew about his private life. “Your phone records are ridiculously easy to tap into. Well, about time you got laid anyway. It’d be interesting to find out what the other guys would say about this, though.”  
  
Jongdae found himself scoffing into the receiver. “Fuck off. What do you want?”  
  
“New mission.” Luhan said, the seriousness suddenly seeping into his tone as though their previous conversation had never taken place. “We’re crashing in on a drug cartel’s deal with the mafia. Big guns this time, lots of firearms expected. You’re going to have to do this with Xiumin and Tao, though. You up for it?”  
  
There was a rush of adrenaline at the sound of the job description. It’s been a long while since he’s had a mission to assassinate anything more than harmless corporate figures. Jongdae was dying for some action, and no amount of practice at the shooting range could quench the thirst for blood in him. It was a worrying sign that he enjoyed killing others a little too much, that he was a little too detached from his human side, but Jongdae paid no heed to it.  
  
“Does the boss want me back on the job so soon?”  
  
“It’s been close to two months since your last job, Chen. I’m sure he’s quite over your previous failure. Also, he was the one who asked for you.” Luhan pointed out, and Jongdae frowned a little. It was the second time his boss had ever requested for Jongdae’s participation; this wasn’t a particularly good sign. Jongdae was about to go under scrutiny again, and if he fails–  
  
“Yeah, I’m in.” Jongdae confirmed, ending the call without another word when he heard a rustle coming from behind. Junmyeon’s arms were around his waist in no time, and Jongdae leaned into the embrace, moaning softly when Junmyeon nibbled on the skin of his neck, creating his mark on Jongdae.  
  
“I need to go.” Junmyeon whispered, breath warm on Jongdae’s ear. There was regret in his voice; regret that Jongdae shared, too, and Jongdae turned around to press their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing against each other’s.  
  
“I have to leave, too. But you can have me for a little while more.” There were still some  _issues_  they both had to settle, Jongdae noted, as he canted his hip into Junmyeon’s. Their erections were still straining against denim, and Jongdae sure as hell wasn’t going to go anywhere until he got what he wanted.  
  
Junmyeon was only too eager to comply with a smile and a rough nibble on Jongdae’s lower lip.  
  
  


-

  
  
Chen twirled his gun around his index finger as he leaned against the brick walls, taking a deep drag of the cigarette between his lips. He dropped it to the ground moments later, crushing it with the heel of his shoe, and glanced up in the direction where he knew Tao was watching him from.  
  
“You know, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought that you were in love with me, Tao.” Chen commented smugly, knowing that it would get on Tao’s nerves. When Chen fished his lighter out of his breast pocket, the object exploded into tiny shards, its contents splashing across Chen’s face and clothes. Chen squeezed his eyes shut and wiped the oil off his skin in a languid manner, not at all surprised. He was expecting Tao to retaliate for his earlier comment.  
  
“I’ll make sure the next shot goes right between your eyes if you ever make such comments again.” The younger man warned, tone dead serious. Another scoff registers in Chen’s ear, and he remembered belatedly that Xiumin was with them, hidden somewhere in one of the abandoned buildings in the vicinity, where they were lying in wait for the drug cartel and the mafia to do their business. At times like these, Chen thought it ironic that they were acting like the police by killing off these criminals, yet they were using less-than-lawful techniques to get the job done themselves.  
  
“Stop arguing like a sex-starved couple, Jesus fucking Christ.” Xiumin said to the tune of protesting grunts from both Chen and Tao, in addition to something along the lines of _I wouldn’t even fuck him if I were forced to do it_  from Tao. “Give me a break, or I’ll get one myself by slitting your throats open.”  
  
“I like it when you’re violent.” Luhan commented over the earpiece, earning more groans from them. They really didn’t have to know about Luhan’s obvious affection for Xiumin. “And I loathe being the one to break up your fight, but the surveillance cameras just picked up some movement coming in your direction.” Chen wondered how on earth he managed to get those surveillance cameras working to his advantage, or whether they even existed before this, but Luhan has a way of getting things done, so he doesn’t question the Chinese.  
  
“The targets?” Xiumin questioned. There was a rustle coming from Xiumin’s side, friction of shoe against rubble, letting Chen know that the eldest man of the lot was already on the move.  
  
As adorable as he may seem to the others, Xiumin was quite the lethal fighter. Chen would hate to be at the receiving end of Xiumin’s daggers, because much like Tao’s shots, they rarely ever missed their intended target. Chen was sure Xiumin could place a clean slit through his windpipe and let him bleed to death on the ground if he stayed true to his threats. He wasn’t stupid enough to push his luck.  
  
“Maybe.” Luhan answered vaguely. “Can’t really tell when it’s so dark out.”  
  
“Any sign of the guys from K?” Chen asked, probably a little too eagerly. He was sure Luhan picked up on his tone, because the man laughed into the receiver at the base.  
  
“What? Looking forward to resolve your sexual tension with that cashmere jacket guy once and for all?” He quipped; Chen found himself rolling his eyes. “I suppose it’s safe to assume that they’re here. They’ve been booked for the exact same jobs as us for months now. I’d like to call it a lovely coincidence, but we gotta get real, y’know.”  
  
A smirk found its way to Chen’s lips when he caught sight of the first movement from the corner of his eye, knowing that it sure as hell wasn’t anyone from M. He could recognise any of his colleagues from a mile away just by their stature. “Assumption is a dangerous thing in our line of work, hyung.” He breathed softly into the microphone, pushing himself off the wall and gearing up for some long-craved action.  
  
Luhan’s amused chuckle filtered into his senses just in time for Chen to twist an unsuspecting mafia member’s neck sharply, sending the man slumping to the ground. "And that's one down. Are they seriously sending their men in one at a time to test the waters?" Chen muttered incredulously, blending back into the darkness of the closest alley to await his next victim.  
  
“If they are, then you might’ve just gave them the signal to flood the area and flush everyone out.” Xiumin commented. He didn’t sound the least bit concerned. None of them were. Simple thugs were fairly easy to deal with. It didn’t matter that they were facing two groups of them. “Two.”  
  
“Good.” Tao breathed, and followed it up with a click, a sign that his weapon was ready. “I’ll deal with their bosses first.”  
  
Chen smirked and pulled his Colt out of its holster. “Always going for the easy kill, huh Tao.” There was a resounding  _fuck off_ from Tao, and Chen sniggered again. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch now. The fun’s just beginning.” And then he threw himself into the heart of the gunfire exchange.  
  
The night soon became a cacophony of bullets ricocheting off the brick walls and piercing through flesh, mixed with blood-curdling screams as man after man fell to the ground and filled the air with the metallic stench of blood and the smell of death. Neither the mafia nor the drug cartel found it odd that what was supposed to be a calm deal had turned into such a massive bloodshed, but perhaps they saw this coming all along, that the deal might go awry, that they might end up clashing. They were fighting against anyone and everyone they did not recognise as their own men.  
  
Chen slipped through the mass of humans effortlessly, gunning several men down in the process. He exchanged a grin with Xiumin when they caught each other’s eyes. The job was almost too easy, now that the number of the mafia and drug cartel alike were dwindling rapidly. He narrowly dodged a machete coming down upon him, sending a roundhouse kick at his attacker and bringing him to the ground. Chen planted two bullets through the man’s chest just as Tao gave the confirmation that the drug overlord had been gunned down.  
  
He exchanged another look with Xiumin, who also stalled in his tracks. “Are we going to clear up the rest?”  
  
Xiumin glanced at their surroundings, lips pursed, before he shrugged nonchalantly. “Might as well. I have my eyes set on that tall guy with tanned skin and slicked hair.” Chen’s eyes followed in the direction where Xiumin had his sights set upon, where a lone person was making his way through the fight, killing men from both sides in the sort of grace that made him appear as though he was doing a dance performance.  
  
“I really don’t think he’s from the mafia _or_  the cartel.” Chen commented. He coolly shot another guy who was charging at him from his peripheral vision in the head, expressions indifferent. Then his pupils dilated in excitement when the pieces clicked together in his mind, and he looked around in search of that certain  _someone_.  
  
Chen dashed off before Xiumin could even sort out a plan with him for their clean-up, bounding towards the person in the cashmere jacket that he was already familiar with the very moment he saw him, his gun drawn and cocked in preparation. The man was too preoccupied with killing off thugs that he didn’t realise Chen was right behind him until the muzzle of Chen’s gun was pressed to the back of his head.  
  
“ _Bang._ ” He whispered into the man’s ear, and Chen smirked satisfactorily at the way his back seemed to have straightened in alert. “You’re lucky I didn’t pull the trigger without announcing my presence first.”  
  
“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not very bright of you to do that?” If the man was in a state of panic, his voice definitely did not betray him. It was almost as though they were engaged in an amiable conversation with no guns involved. Chen looked down when something cold was pressed into his abdomen. A gun. Of course.  
  
His smirk grew even wider. “I’d like to think I’m courteous enough to grant you an equal fighting ground. Despite what I do, I’m not really one for surprise attacks.”  
  
“How ironic.” The man mocked. There was a sharp inhale when Chen applied some pressure on the trigger; Chen was sure the man could recognise the sound of the magazine turning within the gun, poised to set a bullet off.  
  
There was coldness in Chen’s voice when he next spoke. “I hope you’re not planning on running away  _again_. I’ll have you know that I’m sick and tired of your games. Only one of us will walk out of this alive tonight, and it will be me. Turn around so that I can see your face when I put a bullet through your head. Now.”  
  
Much to his satisfaction, the man gave in to his demands without putting up much of a resistance. Out of all the possible faces Chen had tried to match to the man though, he had never, even in his wildest of dreams, expected the one that greeted him. It felt as though time was suddenly moving in slow motion, and Chen’s blood froze, the suddenly frigid night air chilling him to the bones.  
  
“Hello there, Jongdae. I guess I can’t run from this forever, huh.”  
  
  


-

  
  
_Suho._  
  
The name was the only thing that filled his mind, contributing further to his massive headache that night. Chen cradled his head in his hands, trying hard to clear his mind out of everything to no avail. It only served to worsen the throbbing of his head, and Chen slumped deeper into his seat with a pained groan.  
  
He could still hear the way Xiumin and Tao had shouted into the earpiece for him to pull the trigger and finish off what they came for, could still feel the conflicting emotions within him, debating with himself whether he should – whether he  _could_  – kill the only person who possibly ever cared for him after the death of his parents. Chen honestly didn’t know what to believe in anymore, after seeing Junmyeon –  _Suho?_  – smiling stiffly back at him amidst the pool of blood at the abandoned construction site. There was a part of him which felt that everything was an elaborate lie, that Junmyeon had known about his line of work all this while and was using it to his advantage for the sake of tracking M’s movements.  
  
What was true and what was not? Chen found himself contemplating that as he stared at the gun in his hands, but at least it made sense to him now, the way Junmyeon handled his gun so expertly when he had first found it.  
  
The images of that tanned skinned man calling Junmyeon  _Suho_ assaulted his head again, along with the spray of blood coming from Junmyeon’s arm when Xiumin’s dagger grazed past him, and Chen’s stomach clenched in response. He felt as though he had betrayed Xiumin – and the rest of M – for feeling remotely glad that Junmyeon had managed to escape with his colleague in the end. He hadn’t returned to their base after parting ways with Xiumin and Tao; he wasn’t quite prepared for the fate that would befall him for failing to pull the trigger on Junmyeon.  
  
Chen’s ears twitched in response when he hears the telltale sound of footsteps slowly approaching the door, and he quickly slipped into the shadows, gun cocked and held out in front of him steadily. He released a shot the moment someone had entered the house and closed the door behind him, the bullet finding its way dangerously close to the other man’s left ear and planted itself in the wood.  
  
“The next shot will not miss.” Chen warned, voice deceptively calm. “Now sit down, Junmyeon. Or should I call you  _Suho_  instead?”  
  
Junmyeon let out a shaky laugh. “I should’ve expected you to be here. We can always talk this out, Jongdae. Put that gun away.”  
  
“I will when I’m satisfied with what you have to say. Now talk.” Jongdae insisted, keeping the gun trained on Junmyeon. “Why did you lie to me?”  
  
“I couldn’t exactly  _tell_  you that I’m working for your rival group, Jongdae.” Junmyeon sighed. Jongdae hated the fact that he could see the weariness in Junmyeon’s eyes in the moonlight. It almost made Junmyeon appear as though he was  _sorry_. Jongdae blocked those thoughts out. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they already were.  
  
“They were killed too, you know. My parents. Not unlike the way yours were murdered.” The sudden confession caught Jongdae off-guard; he definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that from Junmyeon. But then the doubt seeped into his consciousness again – was Junmyeon telling the truth, or constructing yet another lie to regain his trust?  
  
Junmyeon swallowed thickly before continuing. “I was offered the chance to go after the person who killed my parents, with full access to anything I need to track him down. That was how I became a hired gun for K. I’m sure you know how it feels, to be trapped in this life for the sake of revenge, yet never really wanting to _leave_  because it’s all you’ve ever known.”  
  
Jongdae’s expressions remained impassive as he looked at Junmyeon, not wanting his emotions to get the better of him. He had allowed that to happen one too many times, and he was frankly tired of it. What was the point of putting your heart out to care for someone when you would end up getting shredded up because of it in the end?  
  
Jongdae realised belatedly that retreating into a callous shell was the best way he could’ve possibly lived through this life of his.  
  
Instead of responding to Junmyeon’s hanging question, Jongdae kept his gun trained on Junmyeon as he slowly inched towards the door. There was a hardness in his eyes that masked all of his truest feelings from sight, and he forced himself to twist the doorknob to let himself out.  
  
“Don’t ever show up in my life again. I won’t be able to guarantee that you’ll walk out of it alive.” He declared, and then Chen, _Jongdae_  was gone.  
  
  


-

  
  
Contrary to his expectations, shutting Junmyeon out of his life did  _nothing_  to ease the aching that came with the knowledge that Junmyeon was his enemy. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse. For weeks, months after his confrontation with Junmyeon at gunpoint, Jongdae still found himself looking out for that familiar cashmere jacket when he was out on missions.  
  
More often than not, he would end up being disappointed when Suho was nowhere in sight.  
  
It wasn’t as though he did not cross paths with the men from K – he did, more than he would’ve liked. There was the one who had dragged Suho away from Chen, and then there was one extremely clumsy one with tall, gangly limbs, and another with a stoic expression but looks too young to be in the profession at the same time. It was always them, never Suho.  
  
Just as Jongdae wrapped up his most recent mission by sending a photo of his (very dead) target to Luhan as proof, he began to wonder what exactly happened to Junmyeon. It was as though Suho had fallen from grace, turning from one of K’s most favoured hitmen to being one who barely received any missions at all.  
  
And, as much as Jongdae would hate to admit, he missed Junmyeon sorely. There were things that one couldn’t just omit from their memories, no matter how much they tried. The time spent with Junmyeon was one of those things. They weren’t by any means abundant, but every word, every touch, every kiss, every contact remained burned at the back of his mind, unable to be erased in spite of the resentment Chen held for the lies Junmyeon had told him.  
  
“Get down!” Someone suddenly shouted, but before Jongdae could even register what was going on, the wind was practically knocked out of his lungs when a person barrelled into his back, sending both of them flying across the floor. Jongdae couldn’t even open his eyes from the pain that shot through his senses, and he wondered if he had fractured one of his ribs from the way he was taking in air in short gasps.  
  
Jongdae stopped trying to struggle against the deadweight on him and stiffened in his position when the sound of gunfire reverberated through the silent night. He paled even further when he opened his eyes and realised that it was none other than Junmyeon pinning him down. There was a hint of franticness in Junmyeon’s eyes that was new to Jongdae, the usual confident air Junmyeon usually carried gone without a trace.  
  
“Junmyeon,” Jongdae wheezed between each pulsation of pain, “what the hell are you doing here? What’s going on?”  
  
"There’s no time to explain things now.” Junmyeon hissed, dragging Jongdae away from the open space for cover, all while keeping themselves low enough to avoid being the unfortunate targets of the bullets which were still raining down upon them. “Someone’s out to kill you.”  
  
“What–” Jongdae choked, confused. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Junmyeon plainly ignored his question. “Do you trust me, Jongdae?” He asked harshly, eyes still darting around in a state of panic, probably trying to find a way to get out of this mess.  
  
“I–”  
  
“ _Do you trust me?_ ”  
  
The word _‘no’_  was hanging on the tip of Jongdae’s tongue, for all the lies and half-truths Junmyeon had told him from the very second they had reunited, but then Jongdae remembered all the other times Junmyeon had sheltered him, had taken care of him when they were both younger, of all the promises Junmyeon had faithfully kept in the past, and Jongdae knew instinctively what his answer was.  
  
The moment a silent  _‘yes’_  tumbled out of Jongdae’s lips, Junmyeon grabbed him by the wrist, and made Jongdae leap off the side of the building with him.  
  
  


-

  
  
Jongdae sucked in a deep breath and bit on his lower lip hard when the pain shot through his senses with renewed vengeance. Junmyeon, who was attending to his injuries by pressing a warm towel against the nasty bruise blossoming on the surface of Jongdae’s chest, froze mid-action, casting a wry smile at him.  
  
“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, “just bear with it for a little longer, okay? I’m almost done.”  
  
Jongdae said nothing in response to that. Instead, he glanced up at the ceiling of the apartment they were in and focused on keeping his breathing in a steady rhythm. It wasn’t the other apartment Junmyeon had, the one that Jongdae had already grown accustomed to waking up in. It made Jongdae wonder all the more what else Junmyeon was hiding from him. His heart thumped painfully against his chest at the thought.  
  
“You said you would explain.” Jongdae breathed, holding Junmyeon’s gaze when he looked up puzzled. “Earlier.” He reminded Junmyeon. “You said you’d explain things. Why am I being targeted? I don’t get it.”  
  
“Kim Youngmin.” Junmyeon stated simply, as though those three words explained everything. Jongdae straightened at the name of his boss, but regretted it at once when the pain flared again. “Stay  _still,_  Jongdae.” Junmyeon chastised, to which Jongdae made a face but complied with obediently. Having cracked ribs definitely hurt like a fucking bitch, and he'd rather save himself the agony.  
  
“What does this Kim Youngmin person have to do with anything?” Jongdae feigned innocence; he wasn't supposed to reveal anything relating to M and how it was being run, much less the identity of the person he was working for.  
  
Junmyeon, however, saw through his lie easily. He sighed and replaced the towel in the basin of water, leaning back to regard Jongdae. “Do you seriously think I have no idea that Kim Youngmin is your employer, Jongdae?” He said.  
  
It was Jongdae’s turn to sigh. “What of it, then?”  
  
“He’s the one who sent those guys after you. And many others.” The seriousness in Junmyeon’s intonation, coupled with the accusation that his boss was, in fact, trying to kill him off, made Jongdae’s head throb painfully.  
  
“Why would he do that, and what others? This is the first time I’ve been under direct attack.”  
  
“I’ve been following you for quite a while, since you said you didn’t want to see me.” Junmyeon bit his lip, the guilt and embarrassment showing up as a flush that coloured his cheeks. “I killed the other guys who have been trying to get you out of the picture. You aren’t exactly the most observant person around when your surroundings are concerned.”  
  
Jongdae scowled, but said nothing. Junmyeon took it as a cue to continue. “It’s not your colleagues from M, though – if that’s what you’re wondering. And if you think that Kim Youngmin only has M under his charge, you’re horribly wrong.”  
  
That had Jongdae turning sharply to look at Junmyeon, trying to determine whether Junmyeon was telling yet another lie. He saw nothing but honesty reflected in Junmyeon’s eyes, a reminiscent of the time when Junmyeon had reassured him that he wasn’t going to leave. Jongdae held his breath. “What... are you implying?”  
  
“Many other assassination groups out there, are all controlled by Kim Youngmin. K included.” Junmyeon said. “He pits us against each other to decide whom he should keep. Naturally, M and K contain the best killers he’s ever had, and we were meant to cross paths in every single mission we get.”  
  
“And he wants you dead because you’ve failed to kill me on multiple occasions.”  
  
Jongdae thought he was going to be sick.  
  
  


-

  
  
The information about Kim Youngmin being the boss of both K and M was only the first out of a series of shocking news Junmyeon delivered to Jongdae on a daily basis, while Jongdae was still recuperating from the injuries he had sustained the other day. They both agreed that it was too dangerous for Jongdae to be sent to the hospital, so he found himself stuck in Junmyeon’s second apartment – not that he was complaining.  
  
The same couldn’t be said about the invisible distance between them, however. But Jongdae supposed they had to work on it, especially after he had warned Junmyeon to stay away from him. Jongdae hadn’t quite expected Junmyeon to follow through with his words.  
  
Apparently, Jongdae wasn’t the only one with killers hot on his trail. Junmyeon was too, after he’d relinquished his position as leader and walked out of K when he discovered the fuckery surrounding Kim Youngmin and his precious groups of hired guns. Junmyeon had been in hiding since, trailing Jongdae from the shadows, and killing off everyone who tried to assassinate Jongdae.  
  
It was a sense of responsibility which drove him to go to such lengths, Junmyeon had told him with a light kiss on his forehead, because he couldn’t bear seeing Jongdae hurt. Jongdae had blushed then, but said nothing. The betrayal was still too deep-seated for him to accept Junmyeon’s affection with open arms. He felt conflicted, because he craved for Junmyeon’s touch as much as he objected to it.  
  
But none of the information were as shocking as the newest revelation. Kim Youngmin was the one who murdered their parents, after seeing that Jongdae and Junmyeon were capable of becoming two of his top-rate assassins. He had to force them out of their comfort zone and give them a reason to be killers. Jongdae couldn’t wrap his head around it, even though Junmyeon insisted he’d obtained the information from his colleague in K, a certain Baekhyun who was also trying to get himself out of this path drenched in the blood of hundreds upon hundreds of people.  
  
Jongdae tapped his fingers absently against the table, staring blankly at the computer screen as he lost himself in his thoughts. He tried to make sense of things, tried to convince himself that this was all wrong, that he should return to the base, but the hushed words Luhan had told him the other day kept him away.  
  
 _Don’t come back, you’re going to get killed if you do._  
  
Luhan obviously found out about something he shouldn’t, and if anything, Jongdae was actually surprised that the Chinese man offered to help at all. He shot up in his seat when the notification for a new e-mail popped up on the screen, and his eyes widened when he scrolled through its contents.  
  
Jongdae wasted no time in ringing Junmyeon up.  
  
  


-

  
  
"What do you propose we do?"  
  
Junmyeon looked up at Jongdae, who was leaning against the doorframe as he regarded Junmyeon. Junmyeon smiled, probably realising that the trust had found itself back into their relationship after Luhan's latest confirmation of what they had been suspecting all this while.  
  
"What was it that you had promised yourself when you first became what you are now?"  
  
Jongdae's expressions turned grim, but there was also a renewed determination burning in his eyes.  
  
"I'll kill him." Jongdae said. "I promised my parents that I'll get revenge on their behalf. I will make him pay for everything he's done." He flashed a tight smile at Junmyeon. "What about you?"  
  
"I'll go with you." Junmyeon stated calmly, and Jongdae appeared surprised at Junmyeon's words.  
  
"But if you do, there'll be no way back. You'll have to go into hiding if we fail to get the job done. You'll be hunted."  
  
"I have a personal score to settle with him, just like you. Besides," Junmyeon paused, turning his gaze on Jongdae, "I already  _am_ being targeted. I could never let you go alone. I wouldn't be able to live it down if I did."  
  
Jongdae coughed in embarrassment, but composed himself soon enough. "Then we'll have to come up with a plan."  
  
  


-

  
  
"Coast is clear. The boss will be there in a short moment. You guys should get ready." Luhan's crisp voice came in the direction of Jongdae's earpiece, making Jongdae perk up in attention. He was suddenly filled with nervousness and the fervent hope that they would be able to settle this once and for all, a large contrast from his cool demeanour just moments ago. A permanent life of playing hide and seek wasn't all that appealing to Jongdae.  
  
But he allowed none of the nervousness to show as he replied the Chinese. "Lu  _ge_ , there's no need for you to get yourself involved in this. I'm really thankful for everything you've done for me, but this is quite enough. I don't want to get you involved any further than this."  
  
Luhan's tinkling laughter was his reply. “You’re not the only one who holds a grudge against Kim Youngmin, Chen." He mused. "He needs to be taught a serious lesson for trying to mess with us all. Trust me, you're not the only one he screwed over."  
  
"I'd like to see his expression when he finds all of us with guns in his face." Kris joined in, and Luhan laughed again.  
  
"Let's hope this will go well. Let me know if there's anything new." Jongdae breathed in relief, knowing that he needn't worry about the rest of his colleagues in M. They knew what they were doing, and they were good enough at doing them, too. He was sure Luhan had concealed all of their tracks, and barred every single external access to their base's mainframe after finding some unauthorised attempts at accessing it some time ago.  
  
Jongdae looked to his right when someone squeezed his hand comfortingly, and he beamed at him, feeling the nervousness subside a little. He then remembered the fresh scars he’d discovered on Junmyeon’s body the night before, a reminder of the many assassins Kim Youngmin had sent after Jongdae whom Junmyeon had stopped for him, and his expressions darkened ever so slightly.  
  
"Hey," Junmyeon smiled, nudging Jongdae gently with his shoulder, "stop worrying. Everything's going to be alright. Have a little more faith in yourself and the rest of us, won't you?"  
  
Jongdae choked back a laugh. "I don't think I'll ever stop being nervous before missions.” He admitted, leaning just a little closer to Junmyeon as he kept his eyes on the entrance of the restaurant below them. “There’s always a 50-50 chance of things screwing up, isn’t there? Worst case scenarios.”  
  
Junmyeon took this opportunity to wrap his arm around Jongdae’s shoulder, pulling him into his embrace. Jongdae’s head fitted nicely in the crook of his neck. “Whatever it is, I’ll be there with you. I’ll watch your back. We’ll get through this, then we’ll be free. I promise.”  
  
“And I believe in you.” Jongdae whispered back. That was when he caught the sight of a black Rolls Royce Wraith rolling into the vicinity from the corner of his eyes, and he pulled away from Junmyeon who had leaned in for a kiss, the alertness kicking in at once. They fell back into a business-like manner, exchanging silent words with a short nod.  
  
It was time.  
  
  


-

  
  
For someone who was supposedly a wealthy businessman, Kim Youngmin had an apparent lack of bodyguards. It was a good thing Luhan alerted Chen and Suho of his suspicions, because not having bodyguards around him didn’t mean that it was any easier for them to complete their mission. They should’ve calculated in the possibility that he would be covered by one of his many assassination organisations from the dark.  
  
Chen swiftly stepped backwards when the man walking towards him suddenly threw a punch at him, his alertness on an overdrive. He did a quick survey of his surroundings and deduced that it wouldn’t be a good idea to pull his gun out so soon, even though the restaurant was half empty after Kim Youngmin placed a booking and took half the place for himself. Chen supposed that Kim Youngmin could afford to pamper himself before his imminent death.  
  
He blocked another incoming blow with the back of his arm, then kneed his assailant in the stomach and sent the man doubling over. Before he could slam the man’s head into the wallpaper-covered walls, though, Chen found his world tilting on its axis, his leg having been pulled by the man, and he landed painfully on the carpeted floor. He was up again in a flash, exchanging more kicks and punches with his assailant just as he was trained extensively in.  
  
In a moment of inattention from the man, Chen managed to pin him against the wall, his elbow jammed against the man’s throat and threatened to crush it under the ever increasing force he was applying. It was oddly satisfying to hear the man splutter for air, but there was no time to sit around and wait for him to run out of oxygen. Chen pulled out his Colt and pressed it to the underside of the man’s chin, pulling the trigger unblinkingly. He smirked when the man went still and slumped to the floor, dead, and then Chen was on his way again.  
  
Tao and Kris, who were covering them from the exterior of the building with their sniper rifles, continuously counted up the amount of men they’d killed, thanks to the assassins’ profiles Luhan had dug up from various databases in Kim Youngmin’s computer. Chen was about to complain that he should have some heads-up about the enemies he had to face, but he caught himself just in time and reminded himself that he had a more important task to accomplish. He just had to make his way to the private room Kim Youngmin was in, and kill anyone who walked into his path in between. There wasn’t a need for him to care about the amount of casualties, after all.  
  
Suho joined him when he was almost at his destination, not after Chen had had to gun down several more men on the way, hand clutching his side. Chen paled when he noticed the spreading dampness on Suho’s black shirt and the telltale crimson staining his hand, and he paused to get a better look at Suho. Suho was even more pallid than Chen had thought possible.  
  
“ _Junmyeon,_ ” Chen hissed in a low voice, trying not to draw more attention to them than they already had, “what the hell happened?”  
  
Suho winced at his panicked intonation. “Minor accident.” He said, biting on his lip. “Didn’t expect the bastard to be hiding a dagger under his jacket.”  
  
“You’re  _bleeding_ ,” Chen replied, pointing out the obvious. “You need to get this bandaged up. I’ll finish Kim Youngmin on my own.” He began pushing Suho in the opposite direction, but growled in pain when Suho’s hand flew out and grabbed him firmly by the wrist, holding Chen in position.  
  
“ _I told you_ ,” Suho breathed, very obviously fighting against the pain, “I’m not going to let you do this alone. I’m not going to see you getting yourself hurt without doing anything to prevent it. I’m not letting you talk me out of this, Jongdae.”  
  
Chen, sensing that he was never going to win against Suho’s stubbornness, let out a sigh and relented. “Fine,” he said, drawing out his gun again as he continued leading the way to Kim Youngmin’s private room. “I’ll have you know that I’m not going to live it down if you get hurt because of me, either, so don’t get yourself killed.”  
  
“I won’t.” Suho promised.  
  
They broke up and stuck their backs against the walls opposite each other when they arrived at the double doors separating them from their target. The room was oddly silent, but Chen supposed the doors would be soundproof. It was the perfect location for them to kill Kim Youngmin off without the world knowing, not until they’re long gone from the location and enjoying their newfound freedom from the very person who had bound them to this life drenched in blood with them being none the wiser.  
  
Suho and Chen exchanged another silent word – it was something they were already used to doing, tacit understanding finding their way back as easily as it had been established all those years ago – and crashed in through the door with their guns drawn and cocked, inviting themselves to a private lunch where their presence probably wasn't welcomed at all.  
  
Kim Youngmin looked startled by their sudden appearance, but it was cleverly concealed soon enough, and he settled for regarding them with cold eyes and a colder smile. “Why, what a  _pleasant_  surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”  
  
Suho was the one who stepped forward first. “Which one of us are you talking to? Are you ever going to admit that you’re the one who controls both K and M?”  
  
A laugh escaped the middle-aged man, evidently having been caught off guard by the statement. “So you know everything.” He wasn’t even bothered to hide the fact, and it disgusted Chen more than it should.  
  
“We know all that and more.” Chen said, raising his gun at his employer, finger hovering over the trigger. “You’re not going to get away with this, I hope you know that.”  
  
“I do.” Kim Youngmin admitted, a little too earnestly that both Suho and Chen’s eyes widened. Just as they were beginning to suspect that something was horribly wrong, or realising that Kim Youngmin was too calm to be true, three men burst in through the door, and opened fire at them.  
  
Suho and Chen jumped apart to distract the other assassins who had bundled into the room, dodging bullets while shooting more at the group of men. Suho managed to bring one of them down by shooting him in the chest, while Chen attempted to fight off two others who were relentless in pinning him down.  
  
Chen gifted a well-aimed kicked at one of his attacker’s crotch, sending him doubling over in pain before he slammed the butt of his gun against the man’s neck, smirking appreciatively at the emergence of the sickening crack. He turned around just as swiftly to knock the last man’s weapon out of his hand, mercilessly putting a hole through the man’s skull in the blink of an eye.  
  
When they were done dispatching the men, who were nothing more than temporary distractions, Suho and Chen turned back to face Kim Youngmin, who was still unperturbed by the show of power shared between the pair.  
  
“Bravo.” Kim Youngmin applauded them. “I definitely did not make a mistake by turning the both of you into one of my best assassins.”  
  
Chen smirked. “And you’re going to live to regret that fact.”  
  
“On the contrary, I won’t.”  
  
As if on cue, another man entered the room, and shot at Chen just as Suho noticed him. At his wit’s end, Suho jumped between the trajectory of the bullet and Chen, his mind only filled with the thoughts of protecting his Jongdae. Chen realised belatedly that Suho had taken the shot for him when Suho slumped against his back with the bullet planted in his chest, and he went berserk, firing consecutive shots at the man until he lay on the floor in his own pool of blood.  
  
It wasn’t until another minute had passed that Chen returned to his own senses, and his world again blacked out at the sight of Suho, injured and bloodied as he clung onto Chen. He quickly lowered Suho to the ground, trying to staunch the bleeding by taking his jacket off and pressing it firmly against the wound in Suho’s chest.  
  
"Jongdae, behind you." Suho gasped softly, his grip on Chen's wrist weak from the rate he was losing blood, but the warning came a little too late.  
  
Chen stiffened when he registered the sensation of cold metal pressed against the back of his head. “Such a tragic end to a couple that was supposed to live happily ever after.” Kim Youngmin said mockingly. “You know, this is what happens when you try to murder someone who _raised_  you to be who you are now.”  
  
“ _Fuck you._ ” Chen spat, the angry tears pricking at his eyes – for not killing Kim Youngmin when he first had the chance, and the fact that Suho was shot because of him, for the sake of protecting him.  
  
Kim Youngmin laughed heartily at the curse Chen had hurled at him. “Remember what I told you about allowing someone to get too close to you? About letting someone else enter your life when you’re supposed to distance yourself from society? This is the end result of going against everything I’ve ever taught you, you silly boy.” He mocked again, digging the muzzle of the gun deeper into the back of Chen's head.  
  
"You know what's the best thing about this? You reminded me of the  _exact_  way your parents died, when your mother allowed herself to be shot in your father's stead. But too bad for her; she was too naïve to think that I'd spare your father."  
  
Chen stood up abruptly in a fit of anger, his fast moves catching Kim Youngmin unawares and gave him the opportunity to knock the man's hand that was holding onto the gun out of his way. Chen's own Colt found its way to the middle of Kim Youngmin's head. His grip on the gun was firm, but it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain his hold on it because of the sweat on his palm. But the look of fear on Kim Youngmin's face was giving him immense satisfaction.  
  
"Do  _you_  know what's best about this? You have successfully pissed me off by getting him shot," he gestured at Suho with his free hand, his eyes never leaving Kim Youngmin lest he had some other weird ideas, " _and_  you brought up the incident with my parents. _Go to hell._ "  
  
Chen pulled the trigger without even flinching, watching how Kim Youngmin's head was thrown back because of the impact of the bullet and the recoil, admiring the splatters of blood fanning out from his wound, some of which splashed across Chen's face and clothes. It wasn't until Kim Youngmin slumped to the floor and remained unmoving for a couple of minutes that Chen returned to his senses, and he immediately bent down to check on Suho after he had ascertained that his former boss was pulseless.  
  
Suho was already on the brink of losing consciousness by then, and Chen quickly scooped him up into his arms. "Junmyeon, _Junmyeon,_  stay with me, _please_. Don't fall asleep. Don't you  _dare_  fall asleep, do you hear me?!" He shook Suho gently, breaking into a run for the rear entrance of the restaurant without wasting another moment. Chen didn't know where the bullet was lodged in, and he fervently hoped that it wasn't in his heart. He only knew he had to rush Suho to a hospital at once, if he wanted Suho to have a chance at survival at all.  
  
Suho coughed up some blood, but managed to force a smile regardless of the pain he was going through. “I’m here, Jongdae. I’m just... tired, that’s all.”  
  
Chen was close to the point of the tears by now. There was a sense of hopelessness consuming him from within, feeding him with the dreadful thoughts that he was going to lose Suho for real this time. “I know you’re tired, but stick with me until we get to the hospital. Talk to me.”  
  
“I can’t–” Suho wheezed. “I can’t, Jongdae. It hurts to talk.” Another pause. “I just want you to know– that I don’t regret taking this shot for you–”  
  
Chen shook his head firmly. “No, it’s okay, don’t talk if you don’t want to. You can tell me when you’re better.” He knew he was contradicting himself, but Chen didn’t want to hear the continuation of Suho’s words. He knew he was having the childish notion that Suho could hang on until he could get Suho some medical attention if he disallowed Suho from finishing his sentence, but Chen couldn’t care less anymore. All he wanted was for Suho to stay safe, to stay  _with him_.  
  
“I don’t think it’s– possible.” Suho spluttered again, raising his bloodied hand and caressed Chen’s cheek with it. The last of Chen’s defences crumbled, and he allowed the tears to fall at long last.  
  
“No, it is. You  _have_  to believe that you can make it through this, Junmyeon.  _Don’t leave me!_ ” He practically screamed when Suho’s eyes flutter to a close, ignoring the questioning glances from the passersby as he sprinted down the streets with Suho.  
  
 _I love you, Jongdae_  was the last thing which left Suho’s lips, before he finally lost his grip on his consciousness and was dragged into the murky darkness beneath.  
  


-

  
  
One year later saw Jongdae with his head buried in his books, napping in the middle of all the studying he was doing. After he had regained his freedom and left his life as an assassin behind, he assumed a new identity and resumed his studies, thinking that it was the best way he could make a living for himself.  
  
It wasn’t easy to readjust to a life free of killing and blood on his hands, but Jongdae wasn’t complaining. He had dreamt of a normal life for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know what had happened to the other assassination organisations under Kim Youngmin, but he knew the remaining members of K and M had grouped together and resumed their operations under Kris’ lead.  
  
Jongdae stirred in his sleep and sat up groggily when his pet cat jumped onto his lap, and he smiled wistfully as he stroked its fur, enjoying the way it purred in satisfaction when he scratched behind its ears. He really couldn’t ask for anything more than this, even if his life  _did_  feel rather empty right now.  
  
He bit back a chuckle when a pair of arms slid down his front, pulling him flush against a warm chest, and he glanced upwards to meet an even warmer pair of lips.  
  
“Good morning, sunshine.” The owner of the arms and lips greeted through butterfly kisses, until Jongdae pulled back and regarded the former with mischievous eyes.  
  
“It’s not really morning anymore, is it Junmyeon? You seem to be quite disoriented today.” He teased, glancing at the setting sun outside their window. Junmyeon only laughed and pulled Jongdae even closer to him, his hands resting on Jongdae’s hips in a familiar gesture, his chin on Jongdae’s shoulder.  
  
“It’s only a figure of speech. Are you really taking that seriously?” Junmyeon asked in a low voice, the timbre of his words sending delicious shivers down Jongdae’s spine.  
  
“ _Maybe._  Aren’t you the master in deciphering my words?” Jongdae leaned in and landed a peck on Junmyeon’s lips again, laughing as he did so.  
  
Junmyeon pretended to take Jongdae’s words into consideration, appearing thoughtful before he shrugged. “Well, I can always torture the truth out of you, _if you know what I mean_.”  
  
Jongdae’s eyes widened in mock fear. “You wouldn’t.”  
  
“I  _would_.” Junmyeon challenged back and hauled a screaming Jongdae onto his shoulders, gleefully making his way to the bedroom. “And I’m going to prove it, just the way you like me to.”  
  
Despite all the colourful curses and the thrashing of limbs, Jongdae couldn’t help but smile at their current situation. The days when he had to endure the uncertainty of Junmyeon’s safety and watching as he fought for his life after the surgery to remove the bullet from his chest was like a nightmare to Jongdae, one that he didn’t want to relive. He had never felt more thankful than the moment when Junmyeon could finally open his eyes and call his name again.  
  
What they had now,  _this_  was everything he had wished for, and for what possibly was the millionth time since Junmyeon was saved from the brink of death, Jongdae sent a silent prayer to the heavens above, thanking God for allowing them to live together for another day in good health.

**Author's Note:**

> The changes between Jongdae/Chen and Junmyeon/Suho was purely intentional, because I wanted to kind of show the distinction between both their lives as assassins and as themselves, if I'm making any sense at all. Do let me know if there's anything you're confused about! And I'm terribly sorry if your time was wasted by reading this /bows/.


End file.
